After The Night
by AngelWithASeraphBlade
Summary: Big Four A.U. Hiccup has moved to America to aid in the production of his first novel, After The Night, into a film. With a gorgeous lead, two off the wall directors and a struggling sister at home, what could possibly go wrong? Sorry for the bad summary. I only own the plot.
1. Chapter 1

_Since this is chapter 1, I would really appreciate it if you guys could leave a quick comment in the reviews, even if it's just a word or two, to let me know whether I should continue this :) Thanks for reading, enjoy. xxx_

* * *

Hiccup trudged along the pavement solemnly, his boots clapping hard footsteps onto the concrete, clutching a coffee to his chest. It was a gloomy day in late November, and even though it was only around four the clouded over sky was darkening, casting the whole world in a very depressing light. There was a faint drizzle hanging in the air, and Hiccup sighed, tapping his gloveless fingers in a repetitive pattern on the sides of the cardboard cup which held the steaming liquid.

He had come out because he had gotten writers block again. It had been the third bloody time that week, which was worrying because it was only Tuesday. Normally coming out into the depressing little Scottish town in which he lived managed to stir up some inspiration, but today the smoke from the single factory and the odd smell of brioche which came from the industry in the place just weren't doing it for him. This was the fifth coffee he had bought from the Costa in the retail park, which was probably appalling for his health, and yet still nothing had come to mind about what to do in the next chapter of the novel he was in the middle of, so he had decided to give up until the next day and go back home.

It wasn't that Hiccup hadn't planned the book out. He had, in great detail; it was just that he had gotten to a particular turning point for one of the protagonists and he had absolutely no idea how to describe the emotions running through his head, and just exactly what his immediate reaction would be. Normally he would draw on his past experience to write out these sorts of scenarios, but he'd never been in he situation where he'd found out that his brother was a mass murderer that was hell bent on killing his mother, so he was a bit stuck. And it was a vital scene in the book, so he had to get it just right.

After about fifteen minutes of walking he finally managed to reach the end of his street. Compared to the rest of the town, it was relatively pleasant. There was a row of trees on the other side of the road to his house, though now they had lost all of their leaves and were looking rather forlorn, and it was clean. The pavements were made of a pretty sort of cobbles rather than the concrete that coated the rest of the place and most of the houses were red brick, which Hiccup particularly liked, though he couldn't really explain why. None of the neighbours had house parties, and none of them had heated arguments at three in the morning. All in all, it was a nice neighbourhood.

He looked up as he approached his own house. It was the same as most of the others on the row, with a bay window overlooking the street and a door with a small wooden porch over it and a lion knocker. There was a light on, which indicated that his sister Astrid was home. He had to sidestep her badly parked car as he made his way up the gravelled driveway, switching his coffee into his left hand as he fumbled around in his pocket for his keys with the right and then kicked the door open with his foot.

The warmth of the house wrapped around him like a blanket as he flicked the door shut and placed his coffee on the small shelf by the door so that he could hang his coat up and lock the door again – Astrid had clearly put the heating on, which Hiccup had been meaning to do all morning, and had just never really gotten around to. There was the soft smell of gingerbread wafting from the kitchen, and Hiccup quickly dumped his keys on the appropriate hook (Astrid went through phases of OCD) before rushing in to see what was going on.

It was like a bombsite. There were pots and pans everywhere, a mysterious liquid was dripping from the worktop on the floor, and all of the utensils had been used. Hiccup had no idea how Astrid had managed to use their entire extensive collection of kitchen items, but then again, with her, anything was possible. She was standing over their kitchen table, completely unfazed, icing some gingerbread men with bright green and red icing. Hiccup groaned inwardly. His sister had always been obsessed with Christmas, with this appearing earlier every year, and now it had broken into November. Hiccup had always known this day was coming, but still.

He sneaked up and hugged Astrid from behind. Ever the professional, her hands didn't slip and mess up her (actually rather good) artwork, and he could just tell she was smiling. He released her, and went over to the sink to start dealing with the mess.

"So, did you get anything more written?" She asked, still totally absorbed in the icing. Hiccup shook his head even though she couldn't see him, grabbing a couple of wooden spoons and running the hot water.

"Not really, only about a hundred words which I'm probably going to delete."

Astrid smiled. Hiccup started scrubbing at the spoons. The water was slightly too hot, but he wasn't really fussed.

"Trust you. Do you have a deadline for this one?"

"Not yet, though the publishers will probably give me one if I don't give them more updates. I haven't told them how I'm doing for about three weeks now."

Astrid tutted, and then stepped back to admire her handiwork, setting the icing bag down on the table. Hiccup moved on to one of the dirtiest mixing bowls.

"Are they going to like it if you do send them another update?" Hiccup shrugged.

"Not sure. I'm not exactly sticking to a regular schedule, but I have got an awful lot written and second drafted since I last emailed, so maybe? Depends how evil they're feeling."

Astrid nodded, and walked over to start drying and putting away the increasing pile of now clean items – Hiccup had learnt to be very good at the dishes since they'd moved out together. Astrid also had a gift for drying, so together they made a formidable team.

"That reminds me, a letter came for you today."

"Really? That totally doesn't happen every day, Astrid." Astrid rolled her eyes, nudging him with her shoulder.

"As in one from America, marked urgent in big red letters." Hiccup raised his eyebrows, and grabbed the last item, a ladle.

"Where did you put it? And how did you manage to use a ladle to make _gingerbread_." He waved the thing around. Astrid ignored the last comment and started to wipe the surfaces, which was no small task.

"I put it on your desk." Hiccup groaned. He'd bought the thing to write at, but this had never happened (he preferred coffee shops, sofas, and quite frankly anywhere; desks sapped his creativity) – instead it became a place to pile stuff. It was currently completely covered in crap, so if this important letter had got in any way mixed up with that, he was going to have a fun job finding it.

"Cool, well, I'll check it out later. Right now, I'm going to try this gingerbread and then go have a bath. I'm knackered." Astrid scoffed.

"You haven't written anything." Hiccup ran a hand through his hair. He instantly regretted it – it was damp, and had soap suds all over it.

"The process of writing is far more than putting words on paper. That's the least tiring part."

"I know." Astrid laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Well, I hope you have a nice bath. I'll see you in a bit. I think I'm going to order pizza for dinner."

"Just don't try to cook anything else. I can't be bothered to deal with the damage."

He left the room before Astrid could get grumpy with him (she was very proud of her cooking), trudging up the stairs. Truth be told, he was fed up. This was his third novel, and he felt like it should have got easier by now. Instead, it was getting harder. He had a lot of pressure on him from his publishers to write his third bestseller, and pressure from the fans for more complex plots and characters. It was his passion, but it felt like a bit of a drag when you were 25, and everyone you used to know could go out clubbing every day, when you just wanted to sleep.

Not that he wasn't appreciative, he thought, as he started running the bath, hoping that Astrid hadn't used up all of the hot water. He loved his work, and he still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have such wonderful readers, and so many, too. He couldn't have asked for more. It's just sometimes he felt like he wanted a break, to do something different; he was worried if he didn't, writing would lose its charm.

He sighed as he sank into the warm water, finally letting the tension drift from his muscles. He had an entire stack of books next to him from his 'to be read' list that he was itching to read, but he could not be bothered that evening. Instead, he let all thoughts drift from his mind, enjoying the sensation of having nothing to do (at that exact moment anyway). Eventually he fell asleep, dreaming of plotlines and evil pens that wouldn't write the right thing.

* * *

Hiccup eventually woke up about an hour later, when the bath water had turned icy cold, and darkness had truly set in outside. His thoughts felt viscous in his mind, slight fogginess hanging around the edges of his vision. Trying to power through it, he pulled himself out of the bath, wrapping one of his new fluffy towels around him like a cloak, like his and Astrid's mother had used to when they were little. The air had turned really cold, and he could feel himself shivering. He quickly shuffled into his room, leaving damp footprints on the landing carpet, and then quickly dried himself off, slipping into his Christmas pyjamas – yes, he had Christmas pyjamas, and if Astrid was allowed to make gingerbread men, he was bloody well allowed to wear them.

As he was walking down the stairs, Astrid was just closing the door, pizza box in hand. He stopped at the top and smiled as she walked into their lounge, completely oblivious to his presence. She'd tied her hair back into a French plait, and changed into tracksuits and a vest top. To him – although pretty much all of her ex's had disagreed, which showed what idiots they were – this was when she was most beautiful. Sure, he was biased as her brother, but anyone would admit that Astrid was stunning. Of course, once you got to know her, you found out that she was completely mad, but in Hiccup's opinion that just made her more awesome.

Hiccup put his permanent status of single down to this opinion – although a couple of his more… involved readers had written marriage proposals, which he'd politely declined every time.

He continued down the stairs, walking past the lounge where Astrid had slumped on the sofa and into his office. Most of the walls were covered in photos, some of him and Astrid, some of random places he'd used as locations, and some of Toothless. Toothless was his very not toothless cat, who was currently curled up on the swivel chair, his tail covering his face. He barely stirred as Hiccup closed and locked the door behind him with a tiny key he always kept around his neck. Although he rarely used the office to write, it was still his space, and he didn't really want Astrid to come in.

Toothless did notice when Hiccup picked him up off of the chair, and only stopped hissing once he'd been draped over his shoulder, Hiccup holding him up with his left arm. Luckily, the 'important letter' hadn't been buried in the piles of crap. He picked it up slowly, careful not to jostle Toothless, who'd promptly fallen asleep again. It was hard to open the thing one handed, and it took a couple of minutes, but eventually he pulled the sheet of paper out. It took a few seconds to read, and by then his eyes had gone wide. He placed the letter very carefully in his filing cabinet (the only organised section of the room) and then went into the lounge, not bothering to lock his office behind him.

Astrid for once looked up when he walked in, Toothless still perched precariously on his shoulder. She laughed at the expression on his face.

"What, was it them telling you that you had to have the entire thing finished in a month?" Hiccup shook his head.

"No. They want to make After The Night into a movie!"

Astrid stood up.

"You're kidding!"

"I know right! They need my permission, but they're going to start writing a script, and they want me to go to the US in a couple of months to help with casting and everything!"

Astrid squealed, and hugged him enthusiastically around the neck.

"I'm so proud of you!" Hiccup smiled. Toothless hissed ominously.


	2. Chapter 2

_**This chapter is a bit of a filler chapter, but the next one will have more interesting stuff, I promise**_

 _ **Enjoy! Lu xxx**_

* * *

Hiccup hated flying under normal circumstances, and flying in first class made it worse. The film company, who'd be setting him up for the next however long, had insisted on shuttling him over to America in comfort. Hiccup, unusually, found this extremely _un_ comfortable. Everyone around him seemed to be either completely rich and/or famous, or otherwise very professional. He, in his jeans and green hoody, seemed horribly out of place. Logically he knew that no one was looking at him, but he couldn't shake the feeling of not belonging. When the plane took off, he was looking around for a plastic bag, just in case.

After about half an hour, everything settled. The plane had reached its cruising height and made all of the necessary turns, and Hiccup had finally got used to the environment. Most of the people around him had either fallen asleep or were immersed in newspapers and books. A couple were tapping away at laptops. In any case, no one could possibly be paying him the slightest bit of attention, and he was much more relaxed. Now feeling able to move without throwing up, he reached down to his backpack and pulled out, with considerable difficulty, his laptop.

Despite only having the go ahead on the film from Hiccup a couple of months ago, the producers had a preliminary script and had started casting. They'd sent him a selection of, in their opinion, the best audition tapes for some of the major characters, in the hope that they'd be able to whittle it down to about ten to see in person with his help. He'd saved all of them onto his laptop, nearly breaking it twice, and planned to delete the ones he didn't think were so suitable so that he had the best left. He couldn't decide whether it was boring or not, and so had been putting it off for a good week. But with hours on this plane ahead, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

He decided to start with the first of the leads, a redheaded girl he'd decided to call Claire. After about three or four videos (they were only about a couple of minutes long) he was silently thanking his former self for not imagining anyone specific as his characters, as he would have been constantly comparing, and none of them would have seemed any good. As it was, he had the opposite problem – all the girls were fabulous actors. He'd worked out that he'd need to cut out about around two thirds of the tapes if he was to have the ten he'd been asked for, and he'd already realised he'd have to do it on purely suitability for the role, rather than quality of performance. He was going to watch them all through first though, to make sure he didn't have to cut out some great candidates later on. After a couple of hours, he'd seen all of them and deleted all but 15. It would have to do for the time being.

By the time he'd gotten as far as he was going to with Claire, it was getting quite late (the plane had set off at around nine o'clock local time) and the lights in the cabin were starting to dim, one by one. It was a relief that the hostesses had passed out sleep masks, which most people seemed to be using, as otherwise Hiccup probably wouldn't have been able to continue, for fear of disturbing people with the light of the laptop. Instead, he closed the Claire folder and moved on to the first of his male protagonists, a guy in his mid twenties named Alex.

It was slightly easier to narrow Alex down than it had been for Claire. Again, the quality of acting was generally quite high, but Hiccup had a very definite idea of what the character should be like, and a lot of the tapes, for whatever reason, didn't quite fit it. He found it more enjoyable as well, as by this time he'd got used to the process, and some of those auditioning were really very good. He watched a few of them several times, purely for the enjoyment of seeing his character brought more to life, and then decided to stop – he'd got it down to ten no problem, and he was wasting the time he had. He did plan on getting some sleep on the flight, as he had no idea what, if anything, he was going to be expected to do the next day. He hadn't even taken the time to work out the time differences, which was probably a mistake.

Leaving Jake until last was also a mistake, he realised. When he'd written the final character, he'd been very… unspecific about what he was like, and had left it to the imagination of the readers. That wasn't to say that he wasn't a well fleshed out character – he was, it was just that a lot of his actions, appearances, that sort of thing, where much more open ended, and could have been interpreted in a number of ways. Either way, he had no clue what he'd want to see on screen, so it was either going to be a really difficult or really fun experience.

It turned out to be both. There were a lot fewer videos, around twenty compared to the thirty, thirty five for the other two, so he would only have to halve the number, but each one was so individual and different that it was hard to compare them all. In the end, he had to go with his instincts, cutting out those he didn't quite think were right. It took much longer than the other two, but eventually he was again down to ten whom he really loved. Looking down at his watch, it was getting to be not so early in the morning. Desperate to get at least a couple of hours of sleep in before they landed, he closed down his laptop, shoved it back in his backpack and closed his eyes.

* * *

Hiccup breathed a huge sigh of relief as he fell down onto the massive bed in the apartment he'd been set up in. Going through border control and baggage collection had been slow and hellish, and the guy responsible for his transfer had been half an hour late (and extremely unapologetic). He'd been too drowsy to take in any of New York, nearly falling asleep several times and not able to focus his eyes for more than a minute or two at a time. He had no idea how he'd managed to stumble up to the right apartment, or fiddle with the key, but he had, and here he was. He closed his eyes once again, fully clothed, and drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, he had no idea how long he'd been asleep, except that it had been long enough. It still took him a moment to realise that it'd been his phone ringing that had woken him. Groaning, he reached into his pocket where he'd left it, typed in the code, and pressed the answer button.

"Hello, Henry Haddock speaking."

"Mr Haddock! This is Rapunzel Coronna, from Tower Productions? I think we've talked via email. I'm head producer and director for After the Night."

"Oh, hi." Hiccup sat up on the bed, crossing his legs

"I trust that you had a good flight, and that your accommodation is suitable?" Hiccup nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see him.

"Yeah, it's all been great."

"Excellent!" Hiccup could feel Rapunzel smiling down the phone. "Now, we were wondering if you could email us the numbers of the audition tapes you thought were the best? We're planning to get the best ones in on Friday, so we would like to be sending out the news to all those successful later today, and we need your input before then."

"I thought I was just a token presence?"

"Oh, not at all! I'm a firm believer that the author should be very involved in the process. I've seen too many book to film adaptations go wrong." Hiccup took an instant liking to her.

"I'll send them right now then." He flipped open his laptop, "Although I think I may have too many people that I like for Claire…" Miss Coronna laughed.

"We have too many for most of them. What we do is we all go through them, compare what we've got and then call for audition the unanimous ones." Hiccup smiled.

"Glad to know I'm not a nuisance." Miss Coronna laughed a second time.

"Right, well we'll give you a call in a day or two to let you know what the arrangements will be on Friday, and I'll mail you the preliminary script at some point, but please do enjoy the city in the meantime."

"Ok, thanks. I'll speak to you soon then."

"See you later."

He clicked the phone off and dropped it onto the bed, before logging into his email. There were a couple of spam messages, and an untitled one from Astrid which he made a mental note to read later. He quickly checked the numbers of the tapes he still had left saved in his files (his computer was breaking slightly less now) before tapping them into a new draft, and then sending it off to the Tower Productions. With that done, he closed the lid, flopping back onto his bed. His phone (which automatically updated the time) said it was 10:30 am. He hadn't had a day with nothing planned for goodness knows how long, and he planned to use it well.

* * *

The feeling of February sun was welcome for Hiccup, after months of solid rain back home. It wasn't warm – there was a sharp chill to the air that made him pull his brown overcoat tightly around him – but it was very bright. Being just before lunch on a Tuesday, it was as quiet as New York could ever be expected to be, but there was still a certain energy about the place. Dodging out of the way of a woman with harsh eyebrows who was talking loudly on the phone, he decided to find somewhere to stop and get a coffee. He was starting to worry that he was getting addicted to caffeine.

He slipped inside the first Starbucks he could find, allowing the familiarity and warmth to wash over him for a moment before joining the short queue that led up to the counter. It may have been quiet outside, but it was bustling inside, in the way that all coffee shops seemed to be. He grabbed his normal order (black and strong) and wound his way through the tables towards a small one hidden right in the corner by the window out to the street. It was a little pocket of quiet, and he sank into it gratefully, blowing on the coffee and staring out of the window.

It was therapeutic to watch all of the people wandering past, hands stuffed in pockets, clutching bags, or holding phones up to their ears. Everyone he'd seen so far seemed to have been glued to the things. He shook the thought away, and wrapped his hands around the warm Styrofoam. One of the people outside caught his eye especially. He was in a group of people, right in the middle, but he stood out like a sore thumb. Maybe it was the unusually pale hair. But he was gone as soon as Hiccup had noticed him, and he shook that thought away too.

As he took a sip of his coffee, burning his tongue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and stared at it, trying to avoid swearing loudly. It was Astrid. He sighed and rejected the call, rolling his eyes. Astrid had a habit of calling constantly when he was away (basically when he went anywhere for a long weekend – he didn't really do holidays), checking things, flustering. He'd been able to tolerate it a first, but she was twenty two now, and she really ought to be learning at least some independence. Besides, if it was anything vitally important their dad would be bound to leap on the opportunity to interfere. It had been difficult to persuade him to let the two of them move out, and it had been on the condition that they lived together.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of rain on the windows. He jumped a little, staring out at the sky. It looked more like sleet. People started rushing in to escape it, and the once cosy coffee shop quickly became too crowded for Hiccup's liking. He stood up, abandoning the still scalding liquid, and crept out, trying to avoid the gaze of a couple of girls, maybe eighteen years old, who were looking at him with a hint of recognition. Unnerved, he walked away quickly, hands in his pockets, and decided to hop in a cab to Central Park – he could do with a bit of space.

* * *

It was much quieter, as Hiccup had suspected. Joggers and tourists like himself were dotted around, but in the little copse he'd settled onto a bench in, there was virtually no one else. He felt so much more able to breathe; though he hadn't felt it before, the city had been stifling him. Where he lived was tiny, with barely anyone and anything. It was taking a little while for him to adjust. He couldn't say that he didn't love the energy – the liveliness was what was making him feel like writing.

He really wished he'd brought his notepad now. It was rare that Hiccup got such strong urges to write, so that he itched for his laptop. He normally just mildly craved to pick up a pen. He sighed. At least he had a note app on his phone. It was slow, and a bit crap, but it would have to do. He slipped his hand into his pockets, switched it back on, and frowned.

Astrid had called him three more times, or tried to. Normally she gave up if he didn't pick up first time. It was odd, but not quite concerning enough. Hiccup deleted the notification, moving to the note app.

…


End file.
